Page 65 of From Hell

24

LAINE

Nine Years Ago.

Victoria Royal School of Medicine, End of Year Masked Ball

Forced social events are the bane of my life, especially ones where obviously you’ve been stood up. Not that I date enough to count the number of times that has happened. This is the first and last time.

Jaxon isn’t here and probably isn’t coming.

Mortified, embarrassed beyond belief, I hover on the sweeping staircase landing where a wrought-iron railing encloses a small balcony overlooking the entirety of the main hall. As I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth time, students in lavish ballgowns and Saville Row dinner jackets, coming from the labyrinth of student accommodation above, sweep down the staircase as it splits into two graceful arms, curving gently on either side of the room to the first floor.

I ignore them and tuck myself further behind the velvet drapes. Below, the festivities are in full chaos mode, and I have the perfect vantage point for watching it all.

The bar is rammed, at least five rows of bodies deep. Standing tables with slender candelabras with fake wax candles add soft, flickering illumination. Garish uplighting cast shadows around the students in their masks as they mill in and out of the gothic arches, piling onto the makeshift dance floor. Music booms from the speakers around the DJ.

The atmosphere is akin to something out of a Shakespearean dream and Dante’s Inferno, with everyone drunk or trying to get drunk, scooping drugs into their mouth as they’re passed around like candy.

One girl is lying half-naked on a styrofoam altar, carved and painted to look like real stone, with jello shots all over her body. Frat boys suck them off her while she squeals in delight.

Another girl, giggling hysterically, allows a team of rugby guys to carry her in a fireman’s lift into a photo booth with a line a mile long.

I recognize several from my year, even with masks on, but they don’t see me. They don’t even look up.

Until Molly spots me and waves.

She hurries up the stairs, holding the skirt of her gold leaf print gown that would trail to the floor if she didn’t, her drink spilling everywhere. At the top, she grabs me and hugs me.

“Laine! Why are you hiding up here? Come down and party.”

I shake my head. “I was going to head off to bed.”

Her elegant eyebrows shoot up. Pink lipstick glints off her perfectly pouty lips, and her brunette curls glimmer in the dim light. Molly is one of those girls that does beauty effortlessly. “Bed?” She wrinkles her nose.

“I’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Fuck class. Exams are over. Come and have a drink.” Molly has never let me fade into the wallpaper. She’s made every effort to get me involved. I don’t know why. Solidarity maybe? We’re both from the same grant-maintained school, both here with scholarships, and from the same working-class background. I’ve always liked Molly. She’s down to earth and reminds me of a time before all the pomp and glitter. She doesn’t look at me like I’m something the cat dragged killed and dropped on her shoe or pity-eye the pre-loved clothes I dress in. She’s like me. We’ve been charity shopping together.

“There she is,” a deep bass voice calls out. For a second, I think it’s Jaxon, but the tone is too grating, too nasal. Addison strolls down the stairwell, a smudge of white power on his nose. Henry and Christian tarry behind him.

My gaze strays to Addison’s hands like they do every time I see him now, and he sees me looking and shoves them in his pockets. It took a couple of months until he was out of a cast, and another month before he was able to sit in class and take notes without one of his girlfriends taking notes for him. “Brainey Lainey, you coming to the real party with us?”

Molly cocks her head, giving them a bemused look. “Real party?”

Henry smirks. “This place is fucking lame. We’ve got a room with a hot tub at Berner’s House.”

Molly glances at me. Upon seeing my reaction, she smiles at the boys. “Nah, we don’t have swimming costumes.”

“Who needs a costume? Underwear works just as well.” Christian drapes his arm around Molly, staring into her cleavage. “Come on. Come with us. I’ll be fun,” he slurs, a stupid grin slapped onto his face. Molly rolls her eyes and pushes him away.

Addison sneers. “You can ask Jax why he decided to leave you hanging.”

My face heats. “What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you his date for tonight?” He shrugs as though it’s no big deal and starts down the stairwell, Henry behind him flashes an ugly smile my way. “Word gets around.”

“Jaxon is at Berner’s House?” My voice sounds stretched thin. He’s bullshitting. Why would Jaxon be there?